


My Hero

by avintageoilpaintingofyou



Category: Archead, Jarchie, Riverdale - Fandom, Whatever the fandom name is, i guess?? - Fandom
Genre: ARCHIE HAS TO HELP HIM OUT, Asexual Character, Bi Archie, Blood, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, JUGHEAD GETS IN A CAR CRASH, Lots of Angst, M/M, happy ending I promise, injuries, slur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:35:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9601964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avintageoilpaintingofyou/pseuds/avintageoilpaintingofyou
Summary: Jughead and Archie haven't talked since the end of last year. Until the weekend before summer ends.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I haven't posted in a billion years but Jarchie has awoken me from my grave! They're one of my favorite pairings and I love them with a fiery passion. If there is any grammar mistakes or any type of mistakes for that matter please let me know because this took me six hours straight (lol) to write.

Archie woke up with a start. He was soaked in sweat, and felt like he was suffocating. All his muscles were tight in anticipation, waiting for something. But as he glanced around his darkened room, only the few streetlights and the moon looming through as rain thumped against his window, he came to the conclusion that nothing was out of the ordinary. 

He took a deep breath. 

He was about to turn over and try to go back to a fitful sleep, but suddenly heard a huge crash. He jumped at the noise. 

It came from outside. The sound of metal on metal, and a screech of tires begging themselves to stop; before he could even think about it he scrambled off his bed and rushed down the stairs. He bounded toward the front door and flung it open.

He saw the last person he would think to see in the middle of a rainy Saturday night, his car rammed into a streetlight pole, leaning his forehead against the steering wheel and possibly unconscious. 

Jughead. 

*

“Jug!” 

Archie raced to the vehicle. He pulled the door open and saw what lay before him. Jughead was slumped against the steering wheel; blood was trickling down his cheek, the source hidden under that godforsaken hat. 

Archie patted his pants. He needed to call an ambulance. His pockets were empty; he had left his phone upstairs. He couldn’t leave Jughead alone.  
He slowly reached in, not wanting to startle him. Suddenly Jughead jerked up, as if he was tazed from the back, and gasped violently. 

“Holy shit, what the fuck!” Archie yelled. Hand pressed against his chest in fright. 

Jughead laughed, but then started coughing violently. When the coughing subsided, he turned, facing Archie the first time in months. He smiled; blood staining his teeth. 

“Wow, got quite a mouth on you, Andrews.” 

Archie scoffed, and was about to retaliate, when something caught his eye. He saw two glass bottles in the passenger seat glistening from the streetlight from above them. Beer. 

He glanced over to Jughead to see his red eyes, and the evident tear streaks staining his face. 

Worry bloomed in his chest. Even though they hadn’t spoken, Archie was scared for his best—

He stopped himself. They weren’t best friends. Not anymore. But that didn’t mean Archie didn’t care about him. 

“Jug,” he whispered, his tone soft, glancing back at the passenger seat, afraid he would scare him away. Jughead, who had been staring at him with a damned smirk on his face, broke eye contact and looked away. 

Archie placed a hand on his shoulder. Jughead whipped around and smacked his hand away. “Don’t! I don’t need your pity!” 

Archie recoiled. A long silence stretched out before them, as they stared at each other. Archie could see a few tears slip from his eyes. He had never seen Jughead so defensive, so _vulnerable _before.__

“Jug—” He stared. 

“No, you know what? This was a mistake, I should never come here, I—Ah!” Jughead hissed in pain as he tried to move.  
Archie quickly leaned over, removed Jughead’s seatbelt, and turned off the car in one swift motion. 

He stopped inches away from Jughead’s face. Making sure that he would hear him loud and clear. “You can’t drive like this.” 

It was Jughead’s turn to scoff. 

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out,” downplaying that he had just attempted to drive off literal seconds ago. Archie shook his head. 

“Here, let me help you get out of the car—”

“No, I got it.”

But once he even slightly moved he hissed through clenched teeth. The next thing Archie knew was that he scooped Jughead up in his arms without a second thought. Jughead groaned. Archie couldn’t figure out if he it was because of the pain, or if it was the fact that he was being carried by his ex-best friend like a damned damsel in distress. 

It was probably a mix of both. 

As if Jughead could hear what he was thinking he blurted, “I am not your damsel in distress.” Archie couldn’t help but chuckle a little. Jughead groaned again, but this time out of pure irritation. Archie glanced over at him to see a fraction of a smile though. 

“Oh, come on now, Prince Jughead. That’s not a way to treat your Prince Charming.” 

Jughead couldn’t help but smile. He even laughed a little, which was something, before he snowballed in a fit of coughing. His shoulders shaking, Archie stopped at the base of stairs, making sure Jughead caught his breath before continuing. 

“You okay?”

Jughead dropped his head against his shoulder, regaining his breath. “Fine,” he grumbled, as Archie started up the porch stairs. When they reached the top, Archie readjusted his hold, preparing to kick the remainder of the door open, which caused Jughead to stiffen in pain.

“Shit, Jug. I’m sorry.” 

Jughead waved him off and hung his arms around his neck, curling himself closer to him. 

Archie could feel his breath on his neck as he kicked the door behind him. Jughead opened his eyes to find a dark empty house. 

“Where’s your dad?” 

“Out drinking with his buddies,” Archie responded quickly, not wanting to further the conversation. 

Jughead glanced at the clock on the oven. It read 1:11 AM. “Make a wish,” he joked weakly. He glanced up at Archie to see a hardened expression on his face. 

“Arch?” he coughed out. He coughed a few more times; his lungs feeling like they were on fire, his head throbbing. 

Archie blinked back to life, and glanced down at his friend. As if just remembering that he was there. 

“Sorry,” he deadpanned. 

Archie moved toward the living room and carefully laid Jughead down on the couch as slowly and softly as he could. Jughead wheezed. Archie hurriedly grabbed him under his arms and pulled him toward him, wanting to make the pain as minimal as possible, and shoved all the pillows from the couch behind his back so he could sit up. 

He leaned him back. 

“Comfortable?”

Jughead shrugged, “Your lumpy couch is worse than a coffin.”

Ignoring him, Archie then leaned over him and turned on the lamp, light flooding in the dark house. 

He took a good look at Jughead for the first time in months. He had grown into his face a little, with his signature bags under his eyes, making it look like he hadn’t slept in weeks. But he had a few cuts on his face, and a bruised lip, and black eye. But that injury looked older, he kept it in mind for later. 

“I’ll be right back.” Archie said. 

“I’ll be here.” 

 

*

Archie bolted for his father’s upstairs bathroom. His father was a construction worker. He had at least five first aid kits in his bathroom alone. He opened one of his closets to find a few rags, grabbed them along with two of the five first aid kits cause Archie didn’t know how serious it was. He found some painkillers on his dad’s sink, and then headed downstairs. 

Jughead was in the same place he left him. He hastily dropped all the supplies on the coffee table. He stalked toward the kitchen, filled a glass of water and opened the freezer to find frozen peas. He took a small sip of the water before walking back to the living room and placing it on the coffee table next to his injured friend. He sat down and stared at Jug. 

Now that had a full body view he didn’t look too good. 

Jug eyed the peas. 

“Seriously?”

Archie shrugged. “You might need it. But first . . .”

He grabbed the pills and poured three in his hand. He opened his hand out to Jug, the glass in his other hand. 

“Can you—” Archie started, but was cut off when Jughead reached for the pills and the water. He noticeably winced as he moved but Archie didn’t say anything. 

Once he swallowed them he handed the water back to Archie. He placed it on the table next to him and moved to sit next to Jug on the couch. 

“You’re not gonna like this part, but you’re gonna need to take your shirt off.” 

Jughead looked like he was about to protest before Archie stopped him, “I know, but I just need to check if you have any broken ribs of anything. You’ve had trouble breathing, right?” 

Jughead just nodded. 

“Okay, so I’m just gonna help you . . .” 

As he said this he slowly helped Jughead sit up. He looked nervous. 

“It’s just me,” Archie said. He didn’t know if it made it better or worse. 

Once he fully sat him up he grabbed the hem of his shirt, he looked at him before Jughead nodded in response without meeting his eyes. 

“Do what you gotta do, Andrews.” 

Jughead raised his arms gingerly above his head, and Archie carefully lifted his shirt over his head. Archie got a glimpse of his arms; they were covered in cuts, looking rather recent. Jughead caught him staring. 

“Jug . . .” Archie started, at a loss for words. 

He covered his arms protectively. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Without another word Archie nodded and helped him lay back down. Jughead clenched his teeth, and then the worst was over. 

Except—

“I’m gonna need to take off your hat, too.” Archie saw the look on his face, “Sorry, Jug. Your head’s bleeding.” He grumbled, but let him take it off anyway.

Once he was exposed, Archie glanced over his ribs and saw a little bruising, which worried him, but didn’t spot any dents in his friend’s torso, so that soothed him slightly. 

Archie skimmed his fingertips on the bruised portion. He didn’t react. 

“Does that hurt?” Archie had to ask. 

Jughead shook his head. 

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” 

Jughead laughed a little, “Are we playing doctor, now?” He couldn’t help but smile a little more, “Archie Andrews, who would’ve thought he would prey on such a vulnerable and injured boy.”

Archie rolled his eyes, and forced a smile at the lame joke, but that choice of words struck a chord with him and made him think of Ms. Grundy. Jughead noticed his friend’s absence. His smile faded, “Arch?” 

His face hardened, his voice clipped, “Just—take a deep breath, would you?”

Jughead stared at him for a second, taking in his reaction to what he said, before, very reluctantly obeying. He closed his eyes, and as he breathed in, his face scrunched up slightly in pain, but it was bearable. 

Archie then pressed slight pressure on it. Jughead flinched, “Ow!” 

“Sorry.”

“You could’ve warned me!”

“My bad.” 

They fell back into silence again. Archie grabbed one of the rags and wrapped it around the peas. He held it against his bruise, “Hold this.”

And he did. 

Then Archie grabbed another rag and walked toward the kitchen. He turned the faucet to hot and waited for it to warm up. 

His thoughts reluctantly drifted to Grundy. The comment that Jughead made, even though innocent, couldn’t even depict how disgusting he felt weeks after the 4th of July incident that made him come to his senses. He still felt gross, that Grundy’s hands had stained his skin, and no matter how hard he scrubbed it, he couldn’t erase the memories burned in his brain. 

“Not gettin’ any younger here, Archibald.” 

Archie rolled his eyes as he soaked his rag under the warming water, grabbing a bowl to fill it up to the half waypoint. 

“Patience is a virtue.” 

Surprisingly, Archie didn’t hear a quick-witted response back. Once the water was hot enough, he shut it off and ringed the rag out. He walked over to the couch to find Jughead’s eyes closed and his arms crossed, the weight of his arms pressing against his ribs. 

He sat down on the couch, the movement made Jughead’s eyes open. He smiled weakly. He motioned to the rag. “What’s that for?”

Archie helped him sit up again, them facing each other. 

“To clean up the gross crusty blood on your face, you goon.” 

Jughead scoffed, “Don’t tell me you ditched me for Cheryl now." 

Archie hummed a quiet “Never” in response, thought the atmosphere quickly changed, both of them thinking about the murder of her twin on the 4th, and consequently the road trip Archie ditched Jughead on. 

Archie swiped his hair out of the way, and gently pressed the warm rag against his face. He dabbed it softly to smear the dried blood away on his cheek. 

“Hey Arch,” Jughead said so quietly that Archie almost thought he was imagining it. “Why _did _you ditch our road trip over 4th of July weekend?”__

Archie hand stopped and so did his heart. He glanced over at the coffee table, fumbling for an excuse, he blurted, “I need to get more rags.”

He almost tripped as he rose to his feet and hurried up the stairs. He racked a hand through his hair and let his hands drag down his face. 

He went to the closet to get an extra rag. It was true, he wasn’t completely lying, but he didn’t want to say the truth, he was afraid of people looking at him different. Thinking he was disgusting and awful is what he thought he deserved. He was ashamed. He was even too afraid to go back down there; afraid Jughead would question him further.

However, hearing a retching sound followed by an “Oh, fuck” changed his mind completely.

He bolted down the stairs, seeing that Jughead was hunched over and trying to grab the bowl filled with warm water but it was just out of his grasp.

Archie quickly grabbed to bowl and sat next to Jughead, placing the shallow bowl of water on his lap right when he started to puke. 

Subconsciously, Archie rubbed his bare back, as Jughead puked his guts out. When he was sure he was done, Archie helped him sit up again. Sweat staining his face, his eye bags looking more prominent than before. Archie wiped a bit of residue on his chin. Suddenly Jughead clutched Archie’s shirt and shut his eyes tight, his body stiffened.

“Jug? What’s wrong?” Archie asked, worried that he was getting worse. 

“The room is spinning,” he mumbled, not daring to let go of his shirt. 

He slithered an arm around Jughead. His body was warm but he was shivering. 

“Hey, listen to me, alright? You’re fine, just lay down here and try to get some rest.” 

Jughead made no sign of letting go, “No way man, the springs press into my back and it hurts.” 

“Well—”

“You wouldn’t let Prince Jughead sleep in a peasants quarters, would you?” he croaked, his voice hoarse. 

Archie smiled slightly and shook his head, “Yeah, yeah.” 

Making sure Jughead was still pressing the frozen peas against his bruise, and now applying pressure to the bleeding wound on his head, he scooped him up again and headed upstairs to his room. 

He checked on Jughead frequently making sure he was okay with basically each step, before Jughead said, “Stop, before I punch you in the face. I’m fine.”  
Archie knew he was clearly not, but he let it slide anyway. 

Once they made it to his room he slowly laid him on the cool mattress. Archie opened on of his drawers and pulled out a sweater he got over the summer. He helped Jughead put it over his head, while still pressing the ice on his torso. 

Archie stood up and was going to retrieve his glass of water from downstairs, right when he was about to leave the room— 

“Hey Archie?” Archie turned. 

“Yeah Jug?” 

“Thanks.”

Archie nodded and headed back downstairs to get his water. But first he took the bucket of puke and poured it down the garbage disposal. Turned it on, then poured a shitton of lemon soap in there to mask the smell. 

He grabbed the glass and got to his room. For a split second he thought Jughead was asleep, until he opened his eyes as Archie put the glass at his bedside table. 

“People talk at sleepovers, right?”

Archie furrowed his eyebrows, “Why?”

He said this as he walked over to his side of the bed; he glanced at the clock, 1:36. 

Jughead slowly turned so he could face Archie, ignoring his protests of staying still. 

“Well, technically even though it is unplanned it is, still, in fact a sleepover, and I have a certain inkling that something is bothering you.”

Archie suddenly got defensive. “How would you know?”

“Archie, even though we aren’t friends, I’ve known you since we were birthed from the womb. I know how you are.”

“How about you first . . . why were you driving drunk?”

Jughead sighed and rolled on his back, staring at the ceiling. His voice was soft, Archie felt like his voice got quieter with every word, “You’re my only friend Archie. And when I lost you at the end of last year . . . “ he paused. Archie went to hold his shoulder but stopped himself short. 

Jughead cleared his throat and regained his composure. 

“It was hard, and I was in a very um . . . I was in a rough spot and I felt like I was losing it. And over this summer the football team started a FB page called ‘Everyone Hates Jughead Jones.’ Jelly tried to help it get shut down and help me but I wasn’t having it. Then one night, I went over the edge and tried to. . . ” 

He took a shallow breath and smiled slightly, like he couldn’t believe it happened. He glanced over at Archie, “I felt so alone, and the only person I could think of to talk to was—” He was holding it together now, almost void of emotion. 

“ _Jughead _—” Archie interjected, and reached over to him. He held his hand, and surprisingly, Jughead didn’t pull away.__

“Jelly found me, she said I was bleeding out, and she couldn’t stop it so she called the ambulance. I was out for a couple days before I woke up. Then a couple weeks later with therapy and shitty hospital food I managed to get out. 

“The first night I got back I went to Pop’s to get a burger. I walked in and all the football guys were there, knowing about my release. They told me that I costed them their first game. That none of them would be able to play because I was a whiny sensitive fag.” 

Archie boiled with rage. 

“They got pissed and punched me in the face, that’s where I got this from.” 

Archie squeezed his hand, “I’m so sorry.”

Jug shook his head, his voice softer now, not the void of emotion he was before, “The reason why I got drunk was because I fell off the edge again, and was being an irresponsible prick, but after all said and done, I’m glad you were my ‘hero’, or whatever,” he used air quotes on hero. He finished with a small smile and a shrug, not like he had just bared his soul to him. 

“It’s all my fault,” Archie said. 

“No it’s not.” Jughead said, now more nonchalant than ever now, “either of us could’ve apologized at any time, but as we both know we’re both stubborn pieces of shit.” 

After a pause, Jughead said, “Now your turn.”

Archie sighed in defeat. Am I really going to tell him this? Archie thought. The mere thought of keeping this secret buried inside him forever was too much to bear. 

“Okay,” he said softly, his voice already shaking. He avoided Jughead’s eyes, already feeling nerves knotting in his stomach. 

“Um, you know Ms. Grundy, right?”

He spared a glance at Jughead; he seemed indifferent. “Yeah, the music teacher that everyone wants to get with?” 

His body was basically shaking with nerves; he sat up against the headboard. He nodded slightly, “Yeah—”

“I don’t get it.” Jughead interjected, which was no surprise to Archie. He knew about Jughead’s asexuality the minute he figured it out for himself. They were that close, they used to tell each other everything, and now he can barely look him in the eye. 

He focused on his hands as he spoke, “Um, so one day I was walking home from work, one of my dad’s buddies offered me a ride, but his AC didn’t work and it was, you know, the hottest day of the year, so I said I would just walk home.” 

He paused for a second and looked at Jughead from the corner of his eye, he was intently listening. 

Archie took a deep breath and continued. “And so, I started to walk home, but this car came up and-and it was . . . Ms. Grundy.” Jughead’s eyebrows rose, but didn’t say a word. 

“She offered me a ride, and I said sure, why not, you know. And um, she kept making conversation. At first about normal back to school stuff, how my summer was, I asked her the same thing. But in-between she kept saying how handsome I’ve gotten. How _grown up _.”__

Jughead shifted and managed to lean himself on the headboard too. Archie made sure there were enough pillows supporting him. Jughead waved him off, urging him to continue. 

“But so, anyways. The next thing I know, she pulls over after we drove a great ways from-from anywhere, really. I was so distracted by the conversation I wasn’t paying attention-maybe if I was paying attention it wouldn’t of happened—”

Jughead intertwined their fingers. He squeezed them lightly. _Go on, it’s okay _. He was saying.__

“Um, and she kissed me, and I didn’t know what to do, but the next thing I know I was kissing her back, and then we ended up having— _it _. And I was scared, but it was exciting all at the same time. She asked if I could see her again, and I said yes.” He paused for a minute.__

“We planned to meet over 4th of July weekend, that’s why I had to bailed on you.” Jughead’s hand went lax in his. 

He was angry. That much was evident, but what he said next was something Archie wasn’t expecting.

“We need to tell the police.” 

Archie shook his head, “No Jug. You can’t tell anyone this! She said we could go to jail if anyone found out!” 

Jughead almost laughed, “ _We _? She meant _her _, she’s messing with your mind, man. She would go to jail for statutory rape, you’re a minor so you wouldn’t go. An adult took advantage of you, she deserves to be fired and put in jail!”____

Archie was about to protest before Jughead grabbed his face in both his hands, and spoke with anger trembling in his voice, “Archie, she took advantage of you. She only cares about herself. She manipulated you to think you would both get in trouble. If she truly cared about her job or you she wouldn’t of done it in the first place. Okay?”

Archie was on the verge of tears. “Okay.” His throat burned and he felt like he was going to break any second. “I’m sorry, Jug. I’m sorry about not coming to the trip. I-” 

Jughead leaned in and wrapped his arms around him. “Don’t worry, I forgive you. Have you told anyone else?”

“Just you.” 

A long pause lingered. The only thing filling it was Archie’s sobs; Jughead broke the silence. It was a leap, but he took it. 

“I’m glad we’re okay again. I missed you. “ 

Archie hugged him just a fraction tighter. “I missed you, too, Jug.” 

They parted and Archie told him about the dreams he’d been having about her, about every detail even if he knew it would make Jug uncomfortable, he just needed to get it off his chest. 

He was walking home. Ms. Grundy, as she always did, pulled up right next to him. Asked him if he needed a ride, and he always said yes.  
They had sex. The first time it happened it felt exhilarating and rebellious. She was touching him, and in return, touching her and it made him feel wanted more than he ever had in his entire life. 

But in his dream, he wanted it to stop. He was begging her to stop, feeling dirty in more ways than he could count. But she would pull away slightly and shake her head playfully. “Oh, come on now, Archie. Don’t you want this?”

She would slowly unbutton her shirt, and damned his teen hormones, he couldn’t look away. She leaned in then, the body heat from both of them was almost too much, she kissed him softly on the lips, then she said, in a lot softer voice, “Don’t you want me?” 

And Archie felt so cornered and frightened that he couldn’t bring himself to say no, that he felt scared because she was his superior, and what would she do if he refused? 

And then she started touching him again, only this time, it didn’t feel good, it felt forced, and it almost hurt. He felt her hands slide all over him and he never felt more violated in his life. 

Then he would wake up scared out of his mind. 

Jughead took a deep breath at the end of the story. It was a lot to process. He felt awful that his most favorite person in the whole universe felt this way. He didn’t know what possessed him, but then he lifted his hand and slowly began carding through Archie’s hair.

“Archie, we’re okay. It’s okay.”

Even though he knew in every bone in his body that it wasn’t. 

Archie was on the verge of tears. He wanted to scream on the top of the lungs that it wasn’t okay. That he shouldn’t have a predator for a teacher, or that Jughead shouldn’t feel that life was so hopeless. Archie hurt for both of them, and he was sure Jughead felt the same way.

They both were lying down facing each other. Jug leaned forward slightly, going to whisper something, but he caught Archie glancing down at his lips, and that’s all it took. 

It was a simple peck, but it was enough to know that they were each other’s anchors, and it gave them the confidence to know that they could face anything together. 

Faces inches a part Jug looked at him and smiled a little. “Go to sleep.”

Archie scooted forward and rested his chin on top of Jug’s head. He kissed his forehead. Jug then whispered something so softly he was almost sure he imagined it. 

But when Archie responded, “You too.” Jughead’s grip became just a little tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked it! Idk if this will be a stand alone or if I'll write more so stand by for that. Please comment down below what your favorite part was and what you would want to see if there was a possible next chapter. 
> 
> (personally i would want jughead to drag ms. grundy to her grave tbh (with words (but actually wouldn't be bad either)))


End file.
